[She snorted, a bitter exhalation of annoyance rather than sadness, and took another gulp of her drink. She's starting to feel a bit warmer, her cheeks turning slightly pink as the alcohol begins to affect her. She's small, barely 100 pounds wet, and it won't take much.]

My mother died when I was young. My father didn't even go to the funeral. He was too busy with his work. I grew up with my grandpapa, in his shrine. That wasn't so bad. It was lonely at times, but at I had him and Phobos and Deimos. And it was better than being around him.

We haven't really spoken since I was ten, and I prefer to keep it that way.